


ride out the storm

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve jerks awake, he doesn't even know when he fell asleep but he's in their bed. Each breath rattles in his throat, feeling thin and weak, unable to fill his lungs. For a second he's a little boy fighting an asthma attack, terrified as his own body tried to kill him. His mother tried to be strong for him but even she couldn't hide her panic at three in the morning. Finally his breaths start to even, they come deeper, filling his lungs.</p>
<p>He isn't going to die tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ride out the storm

He had the nightmares before but never had time to stop and think about them. There were missions and there was work to be done. He always assumed the nightmares were just lingering PTSD, his life has never been easy and has become defined by a war he forgets is over sometimes. Nightmares seem like a small price to pay.

Especially now that he's seen what's been done to Bucky. So he doesn't think much of the nightmares, most nights he barely remembers them except for a deep panic in his gut when he wakes up. 

Sam is watching him sometimes, eyes bright even in the darkness. His arm is tight around Steve's middle, reminding him where he is. What he has. Sometimes it feels like a reminder of who he is but he pushes that thought away. Or tries to. It eats at him as they track down where Bucky might have gone. The file Natasha gave him leads to more files in the Pentagon archives. He thinks he might throw up when he realizes how deep the corruption goes.

"Do you want to know?" Sam asks, sitting next to him at the kitchen counter. "Could lead to a lot of shit."

Steve buries his head in his hands. The only nights he feels like he gets something like a decent night sleep anymore is when he's exhausted, nights when they fuck long and slow and Sam doesn't let Steve come until he's practically begging. Steve wouldn't be surprised if Sam does it on purpose, knowing Steve needs to be worn out. There aren't missions anymore. "I thought I'd seen the worst that people could do to each other."

"All kinds of definitions of worst." He curls his fingers loosely around the nape of Steve's neck, lightly scratching at the short hairs there.

"How do you turn a man into a machine like that? How do you not _care_?"

"No good answer."

Steve looks up at him, not sure what he's looking for. Maybe reassurance the world isn't all bad. That something good has come from everything he fought for. Sam lets him look, doesn't push for any explanations. Finally, Steve sighs and leans forward, pressing his lips to Sam's. Making sure he's real maybe. Sam's hand moves to more firmly cup the back of his head, angling into the kiss and deepening it. There's a tightness in his chest he doesn't want to think about, it's all the emotions he's not good with. And something else. Something dark that leaves him terrified.

"You need some rest," Sam murmurs as he pulls back. "You can't go on like this."

"I need answers." He looks down at the file, an ever present reminder of what he's lost but also what he could get back. 

"You're gonna get yourself killed if you go on like this." He pulls Steve forward so their foreheads touch. "Didn't save your ass just to watch you kill yourself."

Steve closes his eyes, he knows Sam is right. He needs sleep, he needs to deal with what's happened and get a good night's sleep. He wishes he knew how but when he closes his eyes all he sees are nightmares. Sam doesn't say anything, Steve would almost forget he's there except for the steady hand on his neck. Holding him down and steadying him. "I see Bucky. But not like during the fight. I'm in a lab and-"

_He's strapped to a bed, his eyes only able to open partway as if he's still half asleep and just can't wake up. He pulls on the straps, testing them but they don't break easily. He'd have to put more effort if he wanted to free himself. His head is so thick though, he can't seem to focus to figure out what he wants._

_His movements must attract attention thought cause a moment - or maybe it's an hour or a day - later a doctor appears in his line of sight. He looks at Steve, eyes hidden behind glasses._

_Can't have you waking up, he tsks as if Steve is a disobedient child. A nurse appears next, handing over a syringe which is injected into his arm. Shield wants you but you're ours first, it's for humanity, you understand._

_Steve wants to scream but he feels like his muscles are freezing up, he doesn't know how much it must take of a drug to actually affect him. But whoever these people are have made the calculations. Everything slips away again, fading into darkness and in one last struggle to stay in the present, to figure out what's going on, he screams._

Steve jerks awake, he doesn't even know when he fell asleep but he's in their bed. Each breath rattles in his throat, feeling thin and weak, unable to fill his lungs. For a second he's a little boy fighting an asthma attack, terrified as his own body tried to kill him. His mother tried to be strong for him but even she couldn't hide her panic at three in the morning. Finally his breaths start to even, they come deeper, filling his lungs.

He isn't going to die tonight.

With a low groan, he collapses back into the bed, realizing that Sam isn't there and the clock only blinks ten thirty one. Moving slowly, still feeling weak and shaky, he makes his way out of bed, moving downstairs to Sam's small office. It's not really an office, just a corner of his living room with a desk.

Sam's there, looking at something on his computer screen. For a second Steve just looks. There's tension in Sam's jaw, Steve watches him clench and unclench. Steve makes his way over to him and lightly touches his shoulder. Sam jerks but relaxes when he sees it's him, leaning back into him. "Shoulda figured you'd be awake again."

"Come on, sleep better with you." He lightly massages the back of Sam's neck, suddenly aware of how easy it would be to accidentally break sam's neck, how much trust Sam is showing him just by letting Steve touch. He's not sure he's worthy of it sometimes. He feels like a liar and a fraud in this body.

"I asked a friend if they could look into the Pentagon files. Don't think we can get into their archives. A bit too noticeable."

"You trust them?"

"Yea. And they don't know what they're looking at so what are they gonna do?" He looks up at Steve and gives him a tired smile.

Gently, Steve touches his fingers to Sam's lips. "I keep you up don't I." His nightmares must make him kick and yell, it can't be easy. "I'm sorry."

"Let me help."

"I don't know how." He's never liked asking for help. He stood on his own two feet and the closest he came to leaning on others was with the Commandos. Even with Bucky, when they lived together in that crap tenement trying to scrape together cash for rent and food, Steve knew he could take care of himself if Bucky decided sticking with the sick kid wasn't worth it anymore. 

Sam smiles up at him. "Talk to me. Talk to someone."

He pulls up another chair and sits down, resting his feet in Sam's lap. Without hesitating, Sam curls his hand around Steve's ankles. "The nightmares aren't of war." Sam's eyebrows furrow and Steve stares at the computer screen. Something is wrong and he knows it. 

"What are they?"

"They feel like torture." He focuses on the feeling of Sam's hand, warm and rough on his skin.The nightmares will fade as long as he can keep this, Sam won't leave. Just like he knew way back then Bucky wouldn't leave even as Steve waited for it to happen. Steve has to open himself up. "Like strapped to a table and-" He rubs tiredly at his eyes, feeling the pull of too many bad nights of sleep all in a row. "Maybe my subconscious is going crazy with being a guinea pig and then seeing what they turned Bucky into."

"Maybe."

Steve looks at him, taken by surprise by Sam's own hesitance. He shoves back the fear that Sam knows something he doesn't, that Sam of all people would lie to him. "Maybe?"

"Hydra would have been able to I don't know, do things while you were unconscious right? When they were first thawing you out?" Sam says. Steve feels a painful twist in his stomach, he can see the logic there but his mind rejects it at the same time. It's too terrifying that they could have gotten their hands on him. That somewhere in him is the same manipulation that had been done to Bucky. "Hey, hey look at me." Sam touches his cheek and Steve groans softly, terrified and sickened. "You're not some fucked up experiment. You're Steve Rogers. You're the best man I know." He cups Steve's face so he can't look away. Steve reaches out and clings to Sam's shirt, needing to touch.

"Fuck I feel like a mess."

Sam smiles and pulls Steve forward, it's awkward but he leans gratefully into the kiss. "You're allowed. Pretty sure if anyone's allowed to have a breakdown it's you. How about tomorrow, we'll go through some of that SHIELD intel and see if we can find something on you?"

Steve kisses him again, hoping it tells him thank you and I love you because his throat feels too tight to get the words out.

_Voices echo around him, orders are being barked but he can't figure out the words. Like listening to another language or an elaborate code. He wants to figure it out though and tries to focus, slowly words seem to click into place. Subject. Test. Round. Drug._

_A hand moves his head, forcing it up to fit a mask over his nose and mouth. He tries to scream and thrash but his muscles don't respond. He can't even open his eyes and the mask blocks out any air. He realizes as his head is set back down that he can't breathe._

_The words make more sense now even as his head starts to feel foggy._

_"Subject Alpha has increased lung capacity without training or preparation, contrary to say a trained athlete. His body seems to automatically adjust to reduced air flow and he retains consciousness longer than Subject Beta. Another flaw in the copycat serum."_

-

Steve pushes himself around the final corner of his jog. Sam is already sitting there with two coffees, dressed and on his way to work but he always waits for Steve. They've figured out the timing. Steve and Sam go out together early in the morning, Sam leaves first - he says so he doesn't hold Steve back - but shows back up at the end of Steve's run.

He stays seated, sipping at his coffee while he waits for Steve to cool down before joining him.

"Remember my friend? The one I asked to get those files?"

"Of course."

"They got the files. I didn't have time to look but they're there on my computer."

Steve leans across the table to kiss him. "Thank you. Or your friend. Whoever."

"I'll pass it along." For awhile they sit there in silence, Steve can feel Sam's foot resting lightly against the top of his. Little touches to keep Steve focused. "You really do better with a mission don't you."

He looks up at Sam, slightly taken aback. It's not a question, it's just Sam making an observation and Steve finds himself grinning sheepishly. "I always had something to do even without war. Work wasn't easy to find." He looks down at his hands, still curled around the paper coffee cup. "Never been good at sitting still, never did it before."

"There ain't always gonna be a mission."

Steve drinks his coffee because he knows Sam is right, but he doesn't know what to do about it. "There's you," he finally says, looking back up at Sam. Sam arches an eyebrow back. "I don't know what's next, but I've got you."

There's a moment and Steve wonders if he went too far but then Sam smiles warmly and shakes his head. "Didn't you whine at me once about being awkward? That was very smooth."

He smiles in relief, and for the moment nothing else matters but Sam leaning in, his smile making his eyes light up, focused on Steve. "Can't spend time with actors and learn nothing."

"Ah yes, the infamous USO tour. Sucks I can't get you drunk to get all the dirty details out of you."

"Don't need to, there are other ways to convince me to talk. But," he says quickly, already able to see Sam's smile turning into a teasing smirk. "But. You gotta get to work."

Sam sighs as if incredibly put out but he stands, leaning across the table for one last kiss. "No matter what shit you dig up, we're facing this together." Maybe because he's tired and drained from the nightmares, but the declaration hits him hard despite already knowing it. He reaches out and holds one of Sam's hands tightly, just wanting to ground himself.

"Thank you. Don't deserve you."

"Too fucking bad, you're stuck with me."

Steve watches him go, finishing up his coffee before he starts heading towards home, pushing himself so when he gets back to the apartment, he's at least breathing hard and he can feel the ache in his thighs. He knows the serum was a good thing, he would probably have been dead by thirty without it, but sometimes he wonders if he's not really human anymore. If his body works too well, some days he feels more machine than human.

Though with the constant exhaustion dogging his heels these days, it's becoming easier to remember.

Steve busies himself with shower and breakfast, taking his time, telling himself there is no hurry. He has control of his life and himself. The information will still be there. His breakfast is tasteless mush on his tongue, worse than some of his rations in the army. He forces it down. When it's all gone he finally lets himself go to the computer and pull up the intel.

The fine black print starts to blur together, details on experiments, missions, upgrades. It all reads as a manual to turn a human being into a machine, to take away everything inside him and replace it with orders and directives.

_He doesn't respond._

_Out of control._

_Acting on muscle memory._

_Managed to sedate him, returning him to freeze_

He's still sitting there when Sam gets home, unable to look away but he can't read anymore either. Sam leads him up to bed and holds him tightly throughout the entire night. Steve tries not to let himself sleep, not until his body forces him to.

His nightmare are darkness and pain, he feels needles slip into his arms over and over. Injecting, extracting. He is a pin cushion, useful only for his serum enhanced genetics. They cannot take the serum from him but they are going to make him into a machine useful for nothing but testing. They will take out his humanity drop by drop and replace it with drugs.

When he wakes up there's a silent scream lodged in his throat.

-

"They knew who he was," Steve says later, when he can finally process. "They knew. The fuckers in Hydra. The ones part of SHIELD. A document had Howard's signature. He _knew_." He hides his head in his hands. Sam wraps his arms around him and Steve sags gratefully against him, not sure he can hold himself up anymore. So tired of being a super soldier.

"Thought Zola had taken credit for Howard's death."

"Must have outlived his usefulness." Sam kisses the top of his head and gently pulls his head back, pressing kisses to his forehead and nose and lips. Steve closes his eyes and lets him, grateful that Sam is willing to take control. "I don't know what to do," he buries his head under Sam's chin, wishing he was small again.

"I don't think you're going to find him, not by wandering around," Sam says. "But maybe you can find what they did to him. Get some closure that way and be ready when he shows up."

"You think he will?"

Sam clears his throat theatrically. "Best friends from childhood, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes…" He says in a deep voice, mocking the recording from the Smithsonian. It makes Steve laugh, and he presses a kiss to Sam's cheek.

"Ok fine you win." He rests his head back on Sam's shoulder, not ready just yet to stand back up on his own feet. Sam doesn't push him away so Steve thinks it's ok. "You were sure before he was lost."

"Yea, before he dragged your ass out of the Potomac. That river would probably give most people cancer for looking at it wrong, so you know, he risked a lot diving in there." His hand spreads out wide over Steve's back, something he's done a few times just to feel Steve breathe. "If anyone could save someone's humanity after the shit done to make him the Winter Soldier, damn sure it's you."

"You could to," Steve whispers. He says it with a surety he feels, almost catching himself off guard. There's no reason to believe it, but he knows if anyone could save someone from the edge, it's Sam. Steve closes his eyes, scared to admit the edge is where he's balancing these days.

\- 

There's a mention of a base in Virginia that was apparently used occasionally for housing the Winter Soldier and related projects. They map it out together in the kitchen. Sam insists on making hot cocoa, he says it's good for the soul and they can both use some goodness right about then.

"What are we looking for Steve? Cause we can't just go charging in."

Steve looks down at the map, focusing on the weaving lines. He slept well last night, better than he has since before the Potomac and the Helicarriers. Sam's right, he does do better with missions. Even when the nightmares come, they don't overwhelm. He can stare up at the ceiling and remind himself there's a way to fight back.

"If we want to help Bucky when he comes back, we have to know what's been done to him," he answers.

Sam nods and licks whipped cream off of his upper lip. "So information. Looking for computers or file cabinets. Feel like file cabinets are our best bet, if he's been used since the 40s or 50s, the files we want will still be hard copies."

Steve frowns. "That could be a lot to go through." Sam doesn't look surprised, probably suspected that from the first. "We'll need to be quick and focused. Oldest files first. Anything in German or French."

"Russian?"

Steve shakes his head. "The Soldier was a Hydra tool, the Russian is a cover to hide behind. Zola was proud he was Swiss so…"

"German and French. Got it." 

He looks at Sam and smiles. His feet are on solid ground, and even if he slips, Sam's got his back. "We can leave tomorrow morning, hit it in the evening." Sam leans forward on the table, eyes on Steve's. Steve was scared about comparing them at first when he woke up in that hospital bed and Sam was beside him, so familiar to waking up in sick beds when his fevers finally broke to Bucky sitting beside him.

But looking at him now Steve has no idea how he ever thought he would.

"We should get some rest," Steve says.

"I was thinking bed, not sure about rest." Sam grins and very slowly, knowing Steve isn't looking anywhere else, stands from the table and stretches. It feels like a cliche but Steve's eyes follow down along the long lines of his body. "You coming?"

Steve catches his elbow and pulls him against him, leaning into almost kiss. "Think that's up to you."

One of Sam's hands curls around the back of his head and pulls him in the rest of the way to meet his mouth. It's just a press of lips against lips at first but then Steve breathes, opens his mouth, wanting more and Sam meets him halfway. They separate only to make their way to the bedroom, Sam leading the way with his fingers entwined with Steve's.

Sam fucks him slow that night, chest to back, as deep as possible, his hand around Steve's erection. Steve buries his head in the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. He is falling and falling but Sam's arms are solid and strong. Everything around them fades away, out of focus and inconsequential to Sam inside him and against him. He reaches out blindly, catching one of Sam's hands in his, holding tightly. 

He sobs Sam's name as he comes and Sam's still inside him, still moving. Steve thinks he pleads for Sam to never stop but the words don't matter. 

_"He still responds to stimulus." The voice seems to come from far away like a fading echo. "Sounds, smells, touch, it all makes the right part of the brain light up."_

_"You think theres a potential for another asset here?"_

_"From what we know from Zola's records, the first was mostly successful because of brain damage which allowed conditioning to take hold quickly and efficiently."_

_He wants to be angry and fight, he wants to thrash and scream because no no no Zola is not getting his hands on him, he has seen what Zola is willing to do to men. He will go down fighting, he must. Otherwise everything else was for nothing._

_"There needs to be more testing, sir."_

Virgina looks like a dead end at first. It's been abandoned since SHIELD crashed and took most of Hydra with it. Everything is untouched, why bother destroying files that have already been spread online. Steve runs his fingers over the cabinets, looking at their labels. Most seem to be nothing but random strings of letters and numbers. 

"Here," Sam says, shouldering open a door to another room. Inside are shelves, row after row leading into a dusty gloom. Even when the building was used it doesn't look like this room was used often. The shelves closest to the door stand empty but further back the shelves are full of archive boxes.

They manage to find a light switch and Steve goes straight to the back. To boxes labeled by month and year, boxes covered in dust that hasn't been touched since they've been put away. He remembers from the information Natasha gave him that the first use of the Winter Soldier for SHIELD was in 1951. So he starts there.

Time passes strangely there in the vault. There's no windows, no natural light. Just the few exposed light bulbs dangling overhead. He is careful at first, picking his way through file after file, desperate for any hint. Anything to latch onto. He goes further forward while Sam works backward. Then he finds the first hint, the use of someone labeled only as the asset being assigned the Blackbeard operation. It's something, a thread to pull on and soon he finds more mentions.

Sam touches his shoulder, catching him by surprise and he tears the papers in his hand. Sam just holds out the file he has. It's thick.

"Is this-"

"It's what you're looking for."

Steve's hands are shaking as he takes it, not entirely sure he can believe they found it. He followed this lead because he needed something to follow, something to keep busy. He's been so tired, his mind constantly racing and unfocused. Part of him didn't want to find anything because then he could keep looking, keep focused on something outside of himself. Sam was right about that, he needs a mission.

He takes the file from Sam and reads the first page. _Translated from French, files from AX-341 (refer to Operation Paperclip)_.

The pages inside have diagrams and notes and carefully detailed explanations of how a human brain can be rewritten. How a human being can be turned into a weapon.

"I think we should get out of here," Sam says, his hand is still on Steve, curling around his elbow, not pushing but just there. Steve nods and makes himself close the file, he has time.

He dozes as they head back to D.C., slipping down so his head rests on Sam's shoulder. The radio is quiet background noise accented by the hum of the engine. When they get back Sam lets him hold onto the file but pulls him straight to bed.

"It'll be there tomorrow," he murmurs. "Tomorrow," he repeats, kissing his cheek.

"Tomorrow," Steve agrees, setting the file aside and focusing on Sam. He realizes how Sam has been pushed to the side for this, but he's let Steve work through his shit. He kisses him softly, and again. "Come on, help me sleep."

Sam laughs softly and pushes him back gently. "Say please."

He curls his fingers in the belt loops of Sam's pants and pulls him down with him. "Make me." He mouths at Sam's neck, no longer as tired as he was a few minutes ago. Sam is warm and solid and for once Steve doesn't feel lost or overwhelmed.

-

"Steve?"

He flinches at the light when he opens his eyes, not sure why Sam sounds so panicked or why his head is killing him. He hasn't had a headache not directly related to a fight for years.

"Steve. Come on man, wake up. You gotta wake up." Sam's voice hitches slightly and Steve feels panic well up in his throat. "Most nights you can't sleep and now you can't fucking wake up," Sam grumbles.

"Up," he mumbles, forcing his eyes open against the light. It's just from the lamp, outside the window is still dark. "'M up." Sam's face comes into focus, and luckily he blocks the lamp with his head. Except the angle is all wrong. He's not in bed.

"Steve," Sam lets out his name as a long relieved sigh. "Fuck you scared me."

"Why…" He rests his head carefully against the wall and flinches at a sharp pain. Carefully he lifts his hand to the back of his head and it comes away damp with blood. "What-"

Sam catches his wrists and holds him until Steve focuses on him again. He's sitting in a corner of the room, the sheets a tangled mess between him and the bed. "You've been banging your head against the wall. Don't know how long, just woke me up."

"I- I need a shower. Help me?" He's not sure he can get to his feet and stay up on his own. Sam doesn't hesitate to get his arm around Steve's waist, helping get him to the shower. They're still nude from earlier and Sam just steps in with him, leaning him against the wall while he gets the water going. The initial burst of cold water jerks him awake.

Sam stays in the water with him and Steve clings to him, even when he no longer needs to. There's no talking, not yet. Sam just carefully cleans blood from his head and holds him until Steve feels ready to step out. They don't go back to bed, even after getting on clothes, Steve wraps himself up in the blanket but goes down to the kitchen. Sam follows but doesn't let him start shuffling around the kitchen, shoving him down into a chair and getting the coffee machine started.

"I thought my nightmares were just my subconscious trying to deal with the shit that Bucky was put through. I thought- but I don't know." His fingers grip the blanket tight enough to turn his knuckles white but it's the only way his hands don't shake. "There's doctors, and they run experiments. I can't move, I can never move no matter how hard I try but I can hear everything."

Sam doesn't say anything, finishing up with the coffee and bringing over mugs for them. He sits down next to Steve and stretches his legs across his lap. "Any chance it could have happened?"

"You mean? Experiments on me?" Steve chuckles at himself. "Besides Erskine."

"Yea, besides the obvious."

Steve feels a weight ease off his shoulders at Sam simply taking him seriously and not trying to tell him it must just be a bad dream. "I don't think so." He takes a long drink from his coffee, his body processes caffeine too fast but the sharp burn helps wake him up and focus. "Maybe."

Sam nudges him with a toe. "Maybe?"

"There was a period between when they found me and when I woke up." He frowns in thought. "It'd be perfect for a Hydra loyal doctor. SHIELD probably authorized some of their own tests." His gut twists, threatening to bring his coffee back up but the feeling passes. The panic that things have been done to him stays, things he never agreed to, was never told about. He doesn't know what's in his veins anymore.

"All that shit was dumped online," Sam says. "Government snatched a lot of it back up, but nothing ever really disappears from the internet." Steve glances up at him and Sam smiles. "Steve, you tore them down, they're not not in your head."

Steve feels himself smiling back, not realizing how badly he needed someone else to tell him that. "So what next?"

"Remember that friend who helped us out before?"

"Yea."

"We treat her very nicely and we ask for her help again."

-

Whoever ran experiments on him didn't keep their research on the same servers as the information dumped onto the internet. There's mentions, hints of experiments on a Subject Ice from the right time.

"No originality," Sam sighs as if personally offended. They're in bed, Sam pressed against Steve's side as they go through the information sent to them. "Might as well yell it, we found a frozen guy and poked him with needles."

Steve laughs despite himself and switches to his own SHIELD file. "I'll make sure to send in a critique of their naming methods."

"Good."

"They found me up in northern Canada," he reads from the file, he's glanced at it before but never really saw a reason to read it. "Two months later I wake up in New York."

"Where were you in between?" Sam asks. "A helicarrier?"

"Maybe. I think I was mostly in New York." He groans softly and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. Since the night he woke up with a bloody head, he's been sleeping better. Or at least mostly through the night and he doesn't remember his dreams. He still doesn't feel rested though, as if something is just off each morning.

Sam takes one of his hands and presses a kiss to his palm. "Let's head up to New York."

__

_"Disappointing. There seems to be no way to separate the serum from the man."_

_"There is always a way."_

_"He will run out of blood at this rate and then where will we be? A corpse helps no one."_

_"There are other uses for him."_

__

They drive up because Steve says he doesn't feel comfortable in such a tight place like a plane right then. He catches the relief in Sam's eye though. They take turns driving though it's less than a day. Steve takes over when they're in the city, he remembers exactly where the building he broke out of is. 

A sick feeling settles in his stomach as they approach where he had so desperately fled from. Nothing but blatant lies had welcomed him there.

He grabs Sam's hand just for a brief moment, just to remind himself that he's not alone this time. Sam squeezes back.

The building has been cut up and rented out to different companies so they walk straight in through the front door. "CIA might have removed whatever SHIELD left," Sam says under his breath. Steve nods but doesn't slow his steps, retracing his path until he finds a proper door and stairway leading down to the old storage rooms.

Part of him wants there to be guards, someone to come at them, to give him a way to let out the tension crawling under his skin. 

But there's no one. They checked the blueprints before coming up, cross checked them against newer plans that Sam's connection had for who now owned what in the building. No one was going to let a formerly SHIELD owned building be rented out without following through. The basement was the only space unaccounted for.

One room in particular that Steve breaks into. They're greeted again by shelves but all of these are empty.

He goes straight to the other end, knowing there has to be something else. This can't be a dead end. This can't be.

Steve refuses to let it but there's nothing on any of the shelves. 

Rage and frustration and fear all boil up and he punches at the wall, needing to lash out at something. His fist goes right through, almost throwing him off balance. There's another room on the other side. Empty now but there's a scent in the air of bleach and a computer sits in a corner.

_There's an agonizing pain in his head, pulsing through his temples. He feels a scream welling up in his throat but his jaw his locked up, his whole body is frozen stiff as pain wracks through him._

_And then it stops and for a second, for a second he thinks he's finally died. This one last hurdle and he'll be done with this torture. He'll be free._

_"Well?" A voice says and Steve knows he's still there wherever this is._

_"No change sir, his brain is rejecting the wipe."_

_"One more try, Fury's making noise to put him to use."_

_The pain comes back and this time his scream escapes._

Steve stumbles to the bathroom, his head throbbing with phantom pains. He feels nauseous and unsteady but nothing comes up. Sam follows and gives him a glass of water.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"For what you loser?"

"Everything's been kind of about me hasn't it." He closes his eyes, trying to will the pain away but it's not a physical thing his body can heal. 

"Nah, well right now sure, but I'm not gonna run away cause you have crap to deal with." Sam's hand is cool against his cheek and Steve feels like a kid again, sick in bed with his mother leaning over him. "Don't worry, once we've figured this out, I'll make sure to have a good breakdown."

He smiles tightly and risks opening his eyes again. "I'll never know will I? If they got something into my head." He looks at Sam and almost flinches away at the steely resolve in Sam's eyes.

"You're not some tool," Sam says. "Whatever shit they did, don't you dare think like that."

Steve reaches out and touches Sam's lips. "Not scared of being a tool. Was one a long time ago." He reaches for Sam's hand and holds tightly. "Gave permission before. If I-"

"No."

"You don't know what I was gonna say." 

Sam settles down next to him so they're shoulder to shoulder, their clasped hands between them. "Yea I do. You were gonna ask me to take you down." Sam runs his thumb over Steve's knuckles. "Ok."

Steve looks up in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes. I wouldn't want to live like that. I know you wouldn't." Sam leans in and kisses him. "Let's just keep on living like you're not gonna go murderer on me, ok?" Steve answers him with another kiss, pressing almost urgently against him. He lets himself need Sam.

-

The computer has information on what was done to Steve. The reports are all clinical, the following was injected or a state was induced and the following happened. Steve spends days looking at them, reading about different lights and drugs and even gases were used to test reactions. But the worst is the machine.

Reading about the machine, referred to as a brain wave emulator, he knows for sure his nightmares are memories. The searing pain is mentioned in the reports.

Subject given high dose of morphine and emulator immediately following to see if relaxant lead to increased receptivity of machine. Subject still showed signs of increased physical stress. No other change.

Over and over.

No other change.

When he finishes he wants to destroy the computer just to break something but he stops himself. He needs it as proof that he's not crazy, even if it's only for himself.

-

"You need to get out," Sam announces. "Away from this bullshit." He closes the laptop without waiting for permission and forcefully pulls Steve to his feet. "We're gonna do something normal, no brainwashing or experiments or explosions."

"You make it sound easy." He doesn't fight Sam's pull, grateful for it. Steve still forgets how to take care of himself sometimes, if he ever truly had it figured out.

Sam flashes him a grin and leads him to the shower. "I had to figure out dating under don't ask don't tell, this shit is a walk in the park."

"So what are we doing?"

"Nice restaurant away from suit-types." He waits patiently as Steve ducks into the shower quickly and gets dressed. "You've been sleeping better these days," he says when Steve is in the middle of pulling a shirt on and can't reply immediately.

"Knowing it was real helps." He catches Sam's wrist, suddenly needing to touch him. "You helped." He kisses his palm. "Got a gorgeous man still willing to share a bed with me." Sam laughs softly and curls his fingers loosely around Steve's cheek.

"Just using you for the sex to be fair." He hooks his fingers in Steve's belt loops and tugs him close. He's still smiling when Steve ducks his head to kiss him.

"Good to know the bit of practice I got is paying off."

_"Administer the machine one last time, try to leave him a blank slate."_

_"Sir-"_

_"We have one more shot, erase any lingering effects of the past few months. We'll start him in the set, introduce him to the modern world on our terms. Maybe this will all pay off."_

_There's pressure on his arm and a sudden warmth floods his limbs but it doesn't drown out the pain._

Steve wakes up, feeling heavy and lethargic as if he's fighting against his own body to wake up. There's music playing from somewhere but it's distant and he can't make out the words. He closes his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep, and hopefully wake up again when the world doesn't feel so off kilter.

He thinks he even manages it when he feels the bed dip and opens his eyes to Sam sitting beside him. The music has stopped and he feels like he can move freely but with Sam right there, he doesn't see a need to.

Sam smiles down at him. "Starting to think you were gonna turn into Rip Van Winkle on me."

"Guess I just have some catching up to do," he tries to joke but it feels flat. Everything is still plagued with what ifs and the relief in Sam's eyes doesn't help. Relief that he doesn't have to pull the trigger just yet.

"Well you should get up, gonna go on a jog, want your company."

Steve wants to argue that he's not very good company yet but he's tired of sitting around. Maybe he needs to force himself out of this finally. He gets to his feet, goes through the motions of getting dressed. Each step feels more solid, less like he's stuck in a dream. Even if his dreams are memories, he doesn't want to live in them. 

Running with Sam, teasing each other back and forth, it finally feels like whatever was done to him doesn't matter.

Not until they get back home to the computer and the files. All the hard proof of what was done, of how little has actually been resolved. Steve turns his back on it to look at Sam, watch him going through his daily routine post-run. Steve closes the distance quickly, pinning Sam back against the fridge, needing to kiss him. He can feel Sam's groan as he kisses back. Sam's fingers dig into his hips, not caring that they're sweaty, still in work out clothes.

Steve lifts Sam easily up on the counter, barely interrupting the kiss. It's fumbled and frantic, both of them grasping for each other.

-

There are no scars on his body, he tries to push aside his hair after a shower while Sam is gone. There are no scars. Nothing left behind on him from the experiments done. He's not sure what he expected to see, or how he wouldn't have noticed before. 

He steps back and looks at himself in the mirror, remembering who he was and is, the little guy. He remembers Erskine's finger on his chest more clearly than what he used to look like. He remembers looking down at Peggy more easily than looking up at his dates.

He turns his back on the mirror, sick of his memories.

The nightmares don't go away and he doesn't think they ever will. Some nights, when he's awake and shaking and doing his best to make sure Sam doesn't know or worry, he's almost grateful for the nightmares. It reminds him what was done. Even if he does nothing about it, only tries to live day to day, he won't forget. He's always been a fighter, that didn't change, it won't change.

Even when he doesn't know what the mission even should be, if there is a mission. They were in his head and he won't forget.

When Sam gets home from the VA, Steve grabs his arm and spins him back out the door. "We should go to that restaurant a few blocks away, the one you mentioned with the amazing burgers."

Sam laughs and takes Steve's hand. "Just like that?"

"What else are we gonna do?"

_He hears a baseball game in the background as he starts to wake up, except he's not waking up, not really. A game that doesn't make sense and as he listens to it more he is in the stadium, stealing popcorn from Bucky and trying to get a promise for a handjob in the bathroom. Except he's not there either, he's in an empty room that is nothing but a lie. He is waking up to a lie. He is waking-_

He wakes up to the room he shares with Sam and he watches him as he sleeps. He wishes desperately in that moment, with Sam asleep and unaware, that he could cut it all out. All the nightmares and all the horrors. Just be someone good for Sam.

Sam turns over then and blinks blearily at him, sometimes Steve forgets that Sam is such a light sleeper. Some habits don't go away for soldiers like them. 

"Hi," Sam whispers.

"Sorry for waking you."

"It's ok." He rests an arm over Steve's waist and pulls him close. "Worse things to be woken up by." He closes his eyes and Steve can feel his breathing even out as he falls back asleep. Steve copies him, hoping it can be that easy for him to follow him to sleep. Maybe this time there will be no memories waiting for him. Tomorrow, tomorrow he'll get out of his hole and he'll find a mission to work on, something to keep him busy.

"They're only memories, right?" He whispers, to himself more than Sam but he feels Sam shift, not as asleep as Steve had thought.

"Never only memories," Sam says. "Memories bring a whole fucking world of hurt." Steve keeps his eyes closed but he holds tighter to Sam. "But they're memories so you survived them once before."

When he gets up the next day, he gets up with Sam, goes jogging with him and when he gets home, the laptop goes away and he gets his sketchbook out again. He forgets the pain in his memories as he draws. It's not a mission but maybe this is better than living waiting for another mission, for a gun to go off. Or to be used as the gun. Steve wonders if maybe making something beautiful will offset the brutality done to him, that he has done in his life.

He's always been hopeful. No one has cut that out of him yet.


End file.
